


"You choose to tell me this while my hands are dripping with your blood."

by savora



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Dragons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Long Hair, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 08:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17179808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savora/pseuds/savora
Summary: Viktor has just been coronated as the crowned prince. When hit with grief, he finds comfort in a newfound friend, an impulsive knight with the reputation of being a huge flirt.--Christophe's hand on Viktor's back gently pulled him closer, until their chests were flush."Is this okay?" Christophe asked, quietly, breaking their silence.Christophe's cologne smelled rosy, his skin was soft, and he felt... amazing. Viktor let himself melt, pausing to relish, and his face suddenly felt hot. "Yes," Viktor murmured into Christophe's neck. "You're a fantastic dancer, for a knight."" 'For a knight?' " Christophe teased. "You hurt me.""That's literally your title."Christophe stifled a little laugh. "I might be trying extra hard. I've never danced with a prince before."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jellyfish_Tacos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfish_Tacos/gifts).



> this is a secret santa gift to the wonderful jellyfish_tacos, who said they were a sucker for hurt/comfort, playing with long hair, mythical creatures, and chrisvik! so, i basically tried to mash all of these up into a small story. 
> 
> i'd never really thought about chrisvik before, so i thought it'd be cool to try to step out of my comfort zone and write that ship. also, there are probably wayyy less chrisvik fics out there than the more conventional ships, so i figured--maybe they'd like that secret santa gift better! (and, like, tbh, it was super fun to write these two together)
> 
> anyways, merry holidays, jellyfish_tacos! i really hope you enjoy this little story!! <3

The moment the sun began to sink, the stone castle lit up with an orchestral melody and a warm yellow glow that bled from its shining windows. Candlelight lamps softly shined in the courtyard as butlers welcomed those just arriving by horse-drawn carriage.

Inside, the orchestra was drawing a happy tune and the hundreds of noblepeople were visiting with each other, dressed in their best coattail suits and evening gowns, either on the fringes of the ballroom holding champagne glasses or merrily dancing in the center.

It was the evening of an important coronation. King Yakov had never produced any children of his own, and it was customary for the king to choose a next-in-line monarch once one of the King's young apprentices had completed their many years of shadowing and academia. After decades of not having a next-in-line to the throne, one of King Yakov's two apprentices was being coronated today as the official next-in-line prince: Viktor Nikiforov.

The whole evening, Viktor had been bouncing from group to group, drinking, eating, smiling, mingling with the happy people there to celebrate his princedom.

It was something Viktor was good at: socializing. And, for somebody who had spent the past few months bouncing with excited anxiety about this exact evening in particular, Viktor was a glowing star--in fact, he had chosen a stark white suit and was wearing his long hair in a french braid to stand out from the crowd.

Viktor's uniqueness was not loved by all of the noblepeople here, he had come to realize. Viktor had only just broken off from an interrogation by a group of dukes about his fashion choices, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Ah, Viktor, welcome to the prince's club!"

Viktor stopped to stare at the person. It was somebody Viktor was only able to see once or twice a year, being from an entire continent and ocean away from The Kingdom of Aslan. "Ah, Prince Yuuri Katsuki, you made it!"

The Crowned Prince of Eiji Kingdom laughed as Viktor engulfed him in a tight hug. "Of course! I wouldn't miss the coronation party of my good friend." 

Yuri was standing next to Prince Katsuki, holding a champagne glass and swirling it impatiently, the other arm crossed. "I told you about ten times that the royal Katsukis had confirmed their attendance," he said, irritated.

Viktor beamed a smile at Yuri. "Charmed to see you here too, Yuri!"

"You know I had no choice," Yuri said as he took a sip of his drink.

"Your territory seems even more beautiful every time I visit," Prince Katsuki commented. "Yuri was just telling me about your royal guards' contributions to merchant and trade safety."

"We have many programs that keep our cities safe," Viktor said, then smirked at Yuri. "Yuri might just have a...preference towards the royal guard."

Yuri glared, and growled, "Old man, I  _know_ you do not want a foot in your mouth on the day of your coronation."

"I can't believe it's already your coronation!" Prince Katsuki gushed, blushing. Viktor noted that he might be a little drunk. "When I last saw you, Prince Viktor, you were still only an apprentice--and your hair was shorter!"

Viktor laughed, and smoothed a side of his hair down. "I know, it's almost too long now." Viktor paused for a second, processing how hearing _Prince Viktor_  out loud sounds... foreign. "I think it's going to take me a while to get used to this new title."

Prince Katsuki smiled warmly. "It suits you." He then turned to Yuri. "Will you still be apprenticing under King Yakov, Yuri?"

Yuri took a short sip of his drink. "I will be. If Viktor gets himself killed somehow before or after being crowned king, we do still need a successor to the throne."

"Fortunately, I won't be king for a while," Viktor added. "Our king is still strong and tough as ever."

"Yeah, luckily he's as stubborn as a rock," Yuri said, prompting Viktor to laugh.

Prince Katsuki laughed, too. "It's weird, my family has always been the royal successors to the throne. Your kingdom... is more unconventional."

Viktor slung an arm around Yuri's shoulders. "Oh, don't worry, we're still very much a family."

Yuri shrugged Viktor's arm off of his shoulders. "Hey! That's strike one, old man," he spat. "You know, you're in much higher spirits about this whole thing now than you were just this morning."

Viktor rubbed the back of his neck, smiling guiltily. "Ah, well, you know. Just about anybody would be nervous about inheriting an entire kingdom."

"You're overthinking it," Prince Katsuki reassured. 

"Yeah, it's not like you'll be king anytime soon." 

Just then, Viktor noticed Otabek walking by the fringes of their group. "Ah, Sir Otabek!" as Viktor caught Otabek's attention, he pulled him into the group, a handsome curly-haired friend by his side joining along. "And Sir Christophe! We were just talking about the royal guard." 

Sirs Otabek and Christophe were knights regularly stationed at the castle and for royal travel, so they were common sights for the royal family and its cabinet. Usually, Viktor saw the knights in their on-duty outfits--in chainmail, leather-plated clothing, or training in loose garments--but today they were dressed in elegant tailcoat suits. 

Otabek nodded to the group, taking a spot next to Yuri, predictably. Otabek has been close friends with Yuri basically ever since he had started his apprenticeship. "Good evening, everyone." 

"Prince Viktor Nikiforov!" Christophe exclaimed, bowing dramatically. "The man himself! Big congratulations to you. And--may I just say," he continued, his eyes sparkling as he looked Viktor up and down, "you're looking _fantastic_  tonight."

Christophe was a knight that Viktor hadn't spent much time with, therefore mostly only knew him from proximity and word-of-mouth: charming, overly-confident, and extremely handsome. 

"Thank you, thank you," Viktor said to Christophe, smiling big. "It has been a while since I'd spoken to either of you. Thank you for coming." 

Christophe gestured to the room around them. "Of course, I'm sure you've been busy with all the preparations for tonight."

Yuri put his glass to his lips and muttered, "And being a nervous wreck."

Otabek bumped Yuri's shoulder disapprovingly, and turned to Prince Katsuki. "Prince Katsuki, it's a pleasure to have you here again in The Kingdom of Aslan. I heard you'd be visiting."

"Thank you, Sir." Prince Katsuki smiled at Otabek. "Unfortunately we'll only be staying a few days--I won't want to be traveling in the snow."

"Dormant dragons rouse in bad weather," Yuri said.

"Yuri, that's bad luck to say," Viktor quipped.

"Dragon activity has actually been dormant for much of the past few months," Otabek mentioned. "It's good luck."

"Speaking from personal experience, nothing about dragons are good luck," Christophe interjected. "Now, a new prince at the turn of the season..." Christophe looked over at Viktor and winked. "That's good luck."

Just then, the music changed pace, a gentle and lively violin tittering over a robust cloud-like supporting orchestra.

And, almost as if summoned, a dark-toned boy grabbed Prince Katsuki by the arm. "Yuuri, come on!" he said excitedly, tugging. "Let's go dance!"

"Oh! Phichit--" Prince Katsuki laughed as he was pulled to the dance floor. "We'll get in touch later!" he promised to the group as he was dragged away.

"Be virtuous!" Viktor called over the crowds, as Christophe cheered, "Stay chaste!"

Viktor and Christophe looked at eachother for a second, surprised; then started laughing over their own wildly childish joke. 

Yuri took another sip of his drink. "I need to be a lot more drunk to survive tonight," he lamented to Otabek, watching two idiots in front of him crack up.

"Well," Otabek started, turning to Yuri, "would you like to dance?"

Yuri stopped mid-sip. He looked at Otabek, almost expecting him to be joking.

Fortunately, he was not.

Quickly, Yuri downed the rest of his drink, set it on the platter of a passing caterer, swallowed a blush, and said, "Yes."

Viktor and Christophe repeated the same to them as Otabek led Yuri to the dance floor: "Be virtuous!" "Stay chaste!"

The two laughed loudly, wheezing like immature schoolchildren. Viktor knew, if this had not been a prestigious event, he would be getting a big middle finger from Yuri.

As they laughed together, Viktor felt something tight inside of him loosen. It felt good to laugh with someone, over something so silly. Viktor wonders why his path hadn't crossed with Sir Christophe's more often.

"Oh my god," Viktor said between laughs, wheezing and recovering. With the group disbanded, he knew he should move on to another crowd to schmooze. "Well, Sir Christophe, I'd better--"

"Are you going to dance tonight?" Christophe interrupted.

"What?" Viktor laughed nervously under Christophe's... beautiful, hopeful gaze. "I don't--I mean, I wasn't _not_  not planning on it."

Christophe laughed, "What?" And the awkwardness of the exchange put both of them into another fit of laughter.

"I mean--I mean, I guess I didn't think I would," Viktor admitted between laughs.

"Hahaha, do you mean, you didn't plan on it?"

Viktor pointed at Christophe in realization. "Yes, those are the words i'm looking for." Viktor composed himself and started smoothing out his jacket. "This evening, I'd planned to--"

"Would you be opposed if things didn't go according to plan?"

Viktor seemed taken aback. "Are you asking me to dance, Sir?"

"If you'd be amenable... Prince," Christophe parroted, grinning.

Feeling almost challenged under Christophe's confident smile, Viktor thought about all the people he had planned to network with for the rest of the evening. The coronation ceremony was starting soon--and the prince was expected to catch up with as many noblepeople here as possible, maintaining amicable relations with those who are most wealthy and influential.

Viktor also thought about how much fun Christophe was, all the people he's already spoken to. How, in every ball he attends, everybody always shies away from inviting the up-and-coming prince to dance.

Christophe wasn't shy.

And Viktor loves having fun.

Viktor bowed to Christophe, gently cupped his hand, and kissed it. "I would be honored," Viktor practically purred.

When Viktor looked up, Christophe was--he was actually blushing, his eyes wide. It was a bashful and surprised expression Viktor hadn't expected to see on the face of Sir Christophe, a renowned flirt.

Viktor couldn't help feeling smug. Maybe Sir Christophe was a _little_  shy.

Christophe's expression turned into a pleased grin, still blushing, and he pulled Viktor into the crowd of dancers. "I will lead, though," Christophe insisted as they took to the dance floor.

"I have no qualms with that," Viktor mused as he placed a hand on Christophe's shoulder. It had been a while since Viktor had had this kind of closeness with somebody, and he found himself momentarily marveling at Christophe's classically-beautiful face, sparkling green eyes and charming scruffs of facial hair.

Christophe softly placed a hand on the dip of Viktor's back, and he kept a respectable distance. His hand was gentle as it held Viktor's and they started stepping and swaying to the music.

It was an exceedingly pleasant dance. As Christophe and Viktor waltzed among the rest of the dancers, Viktor felt the atmosphere fizzle from high-energy to almost peaceful. Christophe's body felt strong and firm--what Viktor might expect of a knight--and yet he held Viktor delicately. 

Christophe watched Viktor's face, and the scrutiny was almost enough to make Viktor blush. But Viktor stared at Christophe, too, reveling in his handsomeness, and lost himself to the dance. 

Many minutes between them had to have passed, because before Viktor knew it, the music had changed to a slower piano-led sonata, the backdrop a beautiful string accompaniment.

The dancers in the ball adjusted, holding each other closer for the more intimate music.

Christophe's hand on Viktor's back gently pulled him closer, until their chests were flush.

"Is this okay?" Christophe asked, quietly, breaking their silence.

Christophe's cologne smelled rosy, his skin was soft, and he felt... amazing. Viktor let himself melt, pausing to relish, and his face suddenly felt hot. "Yes," Viktor murmured into Christophe's neck. "You're a fantastic dancer, for a knight."

" 'For a knight?' " Christophe teased. "You hurt me."

"That's literally your title."

Christophe stifled a little laugh, and Viktor felt it against his chest. "Hahaha, I might be trying extra hard. I've never danced with a prince before."

"Ah, right. I've already forgotten that," Viktor admitted, and laughed too. "It's going to take me a while to get used to this title." Viktor paused, and for a moment considered all of the new expectations placed on the title of the Crowned Prince of The Kingdom of Aslan.

He held Christophe's neck tighter. That was a gnawing anxiety that he'd been good at pushing down and not thinking about. He knew his life is focused on the kingdom.

"Are you nervous?" Christophe asked, bringing Viktor back to reality. "You're not usually this quiet, I mean."

"Oh," Viktor said, caught off guard. "Well--yes. But, I've been preparing for years for this evening."

Viktor hoped Sir Christophe didn't press.

"Don't overthink it," Christophe murmured, low and warm. "Tonight's your special night, and you have the easy job: all you have to do is smile and look beautiful. And--look at you, you're already exceeding at one of those."

Viktor chuckled, and blushed. He relaxed his hold on Christophe and buried a smile into his neck. "Thank you. How very wise."

"Smiling and looking beautiful has gotten me through many hardships," Christophe boasted, also smiling. "It works."

"I believe it. You're certainly charming enough."

"Charming _and_  wise. The whole package."

Viktor laughed softly into Christophe's neck. "And humble."

"Who could be humble when they're dancing with someone like you?"

"Are you only saying that because I'm prince now?"

"Only partially."

Viktor hummed pleasantly, still smiling to himself.

Viktor just let himself enjoy the dance, his body moving with Christophe's as the gentle music floated through the crowd.

\--

When the orchestra's music had slowed to a halt and the dancers were dispersing, Viktor knew it was time for the coronation to begin. He thanked Christophe for the lovely time, and broke away from the large crowds in the gala to join with the royal family in the throne room, where King Yakov greeted Viktor with a heartwarming, "You're late."

The throne room looked stunning: the marble floors glistening white into the room; the tall windows displaying a dense array of stars and framed by large ruffled curtains; and they had laid a purple rug all the way through the hall, up the stairs, and to the throne itself.

It was time for the coronation.

Standing proud in between Yuri and King Yakov, Viktor watched the crowds gather in the throne room and listen intently as their king started his speech.

"Citizens, and valued visitors to The Kingdom of Aslan," King Yakov began, "thank you for joining us to celebrate the crowning of Prince Viktor Nikiforov."

Yakov's voice projected over the crowd as he continued his speech, and he exuded the energy of a strong leader. Viktor marveled at him, towering over the crowd as he spoke. Viktor knew he could never replace him.

In the middle of the king's speech, one of the King's advisors approached him, holding the crown perched atop a pillow.

Viktor's eyes widened at the site of it. He'd only ever seen it in a glass case; here in the bright light of the throne room, its blue gems and shiny gold glimmered. It was certainly smaller than King Yakov's, resembling more of a tiara-crown hybrid, and for years Viktor had imagined what it would look like perched atop his head instead of sitting useless inside its glass case.

Yakov picked the crown up delicately, and stood in front of Viktor, looking him square in the eye. Viktor stared back at him, giddy with excited nerves.

"You will not mess this up," Yakov whispered to Viktor, his voice quieted for only the two of them. His tone was stern, more of a demand than a reassurance.

Viktor nodded quickly.

Yakov placed the crown on Viktor's head, a heavy hug around his forehead and braided hair. Viktor hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. He took his first breath as prince.

Yakov stood aside and faced the crowd as a cheer rose up, their applause filling the chamber. Viktor heard some of them shouting, "Long live the king!"

He noticed a lot of familiar faces in the crowd: Prince Katsuki and Emperor Chulanont, together in the middle of the crowd; Dutchesses Mila and Sara, front and center, clapping and cheering; Queen Minako; Duke Leo; Counts Seung-Gil, Jean-Jacques, and Michele. All sorts of people from inside and outside of the kingdom, here to celebrate the kingdom's new prince.

Then, while scanning the crowd, Viktor spotted Sir Christophe. He was standing next to Otabek near the front, amongst a crowd of other knights.

Christophe locked eyes with him, exaggerated a wide grin, and pointed to his face.

_Oh, right,_ Viktor remembered, and he smiled real big for the cheering crowd.

From this day onwards, Viktor was the crown prince.


	2. Chapter 2

"The Shorter Providence won't likely be willing--or, able, I should say, to offer its payment in the form of real money," King Yakov said, his hands sifting through some papers filled with hand-written numbers, charts, and budget outlines.

"This is obviously an area rich in agriculture," Viktor pointed out. He fingered a circle on the large colorful map draped over the desk. "Surrounding these estates, the farms are producing large amounts of potato and wheat, primarily, but tomato farms are also common among fringe crops."

"You're right. This is what I'll bring up in our meeting--if a trade agreement can be made instead of a straightforward payment." King Yakov placed his papers down and leaned back in his chair, looking at Viktor. "It'll be up to you to draft up the paperwork for a budget conversion--"

"--And to balance the outstanding totals," Viktor finished. He smiled innocently when Yakov glared at him for the interruption--but Viktor was too familiar with this. With most of the King's travels, Viktor has always done the remaining paperwork. "When will you be back again?"

"In two weeks," Yuri answered, sitting on the couch off the side of the room, not looking up from the book he was writing in.

The King's office was grand, though supposedly modest for a castle of this size. A centerpiece large intricate rug, a whole wall lined with shelves and packed with books, and a large mahogany desk in front of a series of tall pointed windows lending the room bright sunlight; it was a familiar place where the King conducted most of his business.

"Yes. It's a few days of travel to get there." King Yakov pointed to The Kingdom of Aslan on the map, and traced his finger in a winding path southeast. "We'll be taking major travel roadways, but the Shorter Providence is so rural that we can't avoid cutting through the forests somewhat."

"How many soldiers are you taking with you?"

"Two, just for a safe escort."

"The towns are close together in that region," Yuri mentioned. "There shouldn't be any trouble."

Viktor pulled his ponytail over his shoulder and twirled the strands through his fingers absentmindedly. He tried to remember his previous treks to the Shorter Povidence--it wasn't a long trip, and the small villages along the way are charming. "It'll be my first time taking the lead as prince without you."

King Yakov started rolling up the map on his desk. "Yes. And you won't mess up."

Viktor chuckled, remembering the same words Yakov said during his coronation. "Haha, I don't think that sounds as encouraging as it does in your head, Yakov."

"Vitya, I say that because I'm sure of it."

"What the hell are you talking about anyways? You've been unofficially second-in-command for a few years now," Yuri said, putting his book down in his lap.

"And you've done well at it," King Yakov asserted, sliding the rolled-up map into a desk drawer. "So it won't be any different this time."

Viktor beamed gratefully, and pushed his ponytail behind him again, smoothing the hair together. "Thank you, guys."

Just then, there was a knock on the large, engraved entrance doors.

"Come in," King Yakov called.

The doors opened, and the King's advisor Celestino stepped in, holding an unopened envelope. "King Yakov, excuse me for the interruption," he started, "but, before your trip, we need to discuss our response to military reinforcement. You just got a letter from the south militia's chief of staff."

"The south militia?" King Yakov stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, and pulled out a thick, large book filled with loose paper. "Before we respond, we need to justify the budget to them." He started towards Celestino, then stopped and turned back to Viktor and Yuri. "We'll continue this conversation at dinner," he said, nodding pointedly at them. Then he and Celestino left.

Viktor started assembling the papers on King Yakov's desk, arranging them into their proper piles. "I must admit, I sort of wish I was joining King Yakov on his trip to the Shorter Providence."

Yuri watched Viktor for a moment, his chin resting in his hand.

Viktor continued organizing the papers in silence. When he looked up at Yuri, he was surprised to see him staring. "What?"

"Why are you afraid of being the prince?" Yuri asked, blunt.

Viktor paused for a second, stunned and wide-eyed. "What? Afraid?" he said, chuckling and smiling nervously. "Why would you--where did that come from?"

"Are you scared that you're a bad leader or something?"

Viktor continued putting away the papers into their correct drawers and internally cursed Yuri for being so observing. "Why would you think that?"

"You're not subtle." Yuri continued staring at Viktor as he tapped his pen on his book. He paused, seemingly thinking of something. "You know, you seemed like you were having fun dancing with that knight last week. I haven't seen you like that in a while."

Viktor plopped himself down in King Yakov's desk chair and spun in it. "Oh, you know how Sir Christophe is a big flirt..." When the chair stopped, Viktor stared out the window of the office, watching the expansive view of the castle's courtyard.

Yuri rolled his eyes. "You know, you'd think the kingdom's crowned prince would be less of an idiot."

While scanning the green fields of the courtyard, Viktor noticed that one of the soldiers shooting archery had curly blonde hair and looked very familiar.

"I'll be down in the library," Yuri finished, getting up.

"Okay," Viktor said, a smile creeping up on his face. "I'll be in the courtyards."

\--

Viktor walked up behind Sir Christophe, admiring his unmoving posture as he stood tall, pulling the arrow taut in the bow. He was wholly focused on the targetboards placed far away.

Viktor, dressed in knee-length coats, layers, boots, _and_  a scarf, still felt the stinging cold seeping through his layers, especially when the wind whipped and flung his hair, neatly pulled tight into a ponytail. Up close, Viktor could tell Christophe was only wearing a wool cardigan over a thin blouse, and loose pants that were tied tight around his calves.

Christophe let the arrow fly, the bow kept still. It hit a targetboard slightly off its center.

"Sir Christophe."

Christophe spun around, lowering his bow. "Prince Viktor?" he blurted, surprised. "What is your majesty doing in the courts this afternoon?"

In all honestly, Viktor didn't know the answer to that either. "I've come to..." _enjoy_   _your company some more?_  Viktor grasped at any other excuse. "Watch your archery, of course," he said, satisfied, and marched up beside Christophe.

Christophe smiled, ready to play along. "Really?" He plucked an arrow from the sling on his back, and held it loosely on the bow's string. "Are you judging whether or not I'm fit to guard the kingdom?"

Viktor couldn't help but smile too as Christophe pulled the arrow taut and raised his bow. "Yes, yes I am."

Narrowing his eyes in focus, Christophe murmured softly, "Then I need to make sure I impress." When he let go, the arrow hit the same targetboard--a little bit closer to the center than the last arrow.

"Hmm," Viktor judged, crossing his arms. "Acceptable."

Christophe laughed, and Viktor stared, smiling, at his carefree giggles. "Have you ever shot one of these before?"

"I haven't."

"Here, try it out," Christophe said as he offered Viktor his bow.

Viktor took the bow, grabbing its smooth wooden arch. "Wow," he said as he shifted it around, "it's heavier than I thought it'd be."

"This one's red oak--not all bows will be this weighty." Christophe smiled guiltily and rubbed his neck. "It's not a very good beginner's bow, unfortunately."

"You're sabotaging me on purpose, I can tell."

Christophe chuckled as he handed Viktor an arrow. "I would never, my Prince."

Viktor composed himself quickly as he tried to latch the feathered end of the arrow on the string. With the arrow nocked, Viktor raised the bow up straight and pulled back. With the tightness of the string, Viktor had to strain the bow hard in order to pull all the way back, and it dug into his fingers painfully.

"You're holding the bow too far away," Christophe commented, and Viktor re-positioned the bow closer to his body.

Viktor was silent as he poised the arrow's tip a little above the target-- _to account for curve,_  Viktor justified.

As soon as Viktor let the string go, the arrow flung itself well above and insultingly-too-far-left of the target.

"So close!"

Viktor lowered the bow, staring at the target. "This is a lot harder than it looks."

"You'll get it next time," Christophe said, offering him another arrow.

"Okay," Viktor said, nocking the arrow, "one more time." Viktor held the bow up again, pulling the string as far back as his fingers could handle.

"You're still holding the bow too far," Christophe commented. Before Viktor could fix it, he felt Christophe's face close in next to his cheek, and his hand cover Viktor's. Suddenly, time seemed to slow down. "This hand should be touching your cheek," he said, low, and Viktor almost faltered when it raised butterflies in his stomach. "Keep your head up high, and focus on pointing the arrow towards your target." Christophe's other hand tilted the bow upwards a little higher.

Viktor tried to control his breathing and focus on the target. Christophe's closeness was, admittedly, a distraction.

When Viktor let the arrow go, the arrow soared proudly towards the target--and hit the outer-most ring.

"You made it!" Christophe cheered, jumping up and clapping.

Viktor started laughing. "In the very loosest sense of the term," Viktor rebutted. "Thank you, though, Sir Christophe."

"Oh, come on! You're basically on par with the top-ranking archers in the militia."

"Okay, now you're being mean," Viktor said, smirking, as he handed Christophe back his bow. "That, or I have some firing to do."

Christophe and Viktor laughed together, and Viktor reveled in the freeing feeling of just joking around with somebody again--loosening up.

"Do you practice archery here a lot?" Viktor asked, unfamiliar with seeing Christophe practicing with a bow and arrow.

"Well, sometimes. I mostly train for swordfighting, but it's good to brush up on my aim."

"Even in frigid weather like this? Aren't you cold?" Viktor asked, pointedly gesturing to Christophe's attire.

Christophe looked down at his clothes and shrugged. "Well, the idea is that I'll train hard enough to keep my heartrate up. As--you know--motivation."

"Well, that makes no sense," Viktor decreed as he unraveled his scarf from his neck. "You're hardly dressed for the weather at all." He draped the scarf around Christophe's neck, and started wrapping him up with it.

"Prince--Prince Viktor, you don't have to do that" Christophe stumbled, blushing slightly. Viktor smiled at his sudden bashfulness. "This--haha, this isn't really what I meant by keeping my heartrate up." Christophe smiled sweetly, and brought a hand up to hold the scarf closer to his face. "But I'm not complaining."

Viktor grinned proudly. "Sir Christophe, you need to be careful with your casual flirting." 

"Hmm... casual?" Christophe asked innocently, locking eyes with Viktor. "I assure you, I am sincere."

Viktor stopped for a beat, as he stared at Christophe. Viktor found himself getting red again, under his gaze.

In all of Viktor's years of apprenticing under King Yakov, he hadn't ever really pursued romance--and here was a super handsome man being more bold than Viktor even knew how to encounter. It was all probably a very terrible idea.

"What was it like to fight a dragon?" Viktor blurted out.

"Haha, what?" Christophe chuckled, confused. "Where did--"

"At the coronation ball, you mentioned you had a 'personal experience' with dragons. Did you fight one?"

"Oh..." Christophe trailed off, his head tilted, trying to remember exactly when he mentioned that. "I, I did. It was a few years ago, though."

"Tell me about it! If I'm, you know, not interrupting your training."

Christophe put a finger to his chin and cocked his head to the side, very curiously staring at Viktor.

Viktor hoped he hadn't crossed a line--by asking a knight about his fight with a dragon. Dragons are terrible forces that have caused so much death and suffering, and to even see one means you might not make it back alive.

"You know what--never mind," Viktor rushed, "I'll just--"

"Well," Christophe started, shrugging off his sheath of arrows, "if I'm telling you a story..." Christophe sat himself down on the grass, setting his bow and arrows to the side. "Might as well get comfortable?" Christophe patted the grass next to him.

Viktor laughed in surprise, staring incredulously as Sir Christophe sat cross-legged in the grass. Christophe might be wearing every-day training garments, but Viktor's pants were hand-tailored and made of a combination of pressed wool and cotton from a renowned seamstress who had studied the styles of many generations of monarch fashion.

Viktor sat next to Christophe anyways, feeling totally childish, and tucked his legs in too. He grinned to himself as he placed his elbows on his knees and leaned in, listening intently.

"It was a few years ago," Christophe started, his hands already gesticulating outwards dramatically. "Before I was a castle guard. I and another knight, Sir Georgi, were posted at the gates of Duchess Mila's estate--"

"Duchess Mila!" Viktor interrupted, already in disbelief that a dragon could be spotted in a place so familiar. "In the Griffin territory?"

"Yes, there. We heard a loud rustle in the forests, and the trees shook--as if they were impacted. We thought it might be thieves illegally logging the yews in the area. We decided to investigate--I went first, with my shield up, Sir Georgi behind me."

Viktor leaned in closer, as Christophe's voice got a little lower.

"I saw the back of it first. It was dark green, spotted with lighter scales," Christophe said, his hands gesturing into a vague dragon-shape. "Like a dark tree canopy, shedding spots of light on the forest floor."

"You're quite the poet."

"Thanks." Christophe smirked. "I had no time to marvel, though, because when it whipped around, it was angry. It was--the feeling it gave me was indescribable. Its teeth were bared, and dripping with blood. It was eating some sort of animal. Anyways, it was absolutely terrifying. We didn't even get a chance to back away--it struck right at us."

Viktor put a hand over his agape mouth. "It tried to attack?!"

"Yes. It--its whole mouth was around my shield. Its teeth got stuck, actually, because then it was trying to pull off and--effectively--was pulling me along with it. In a scramble to free itself, a big talon tore straight into my shoulder. I actually, I have a scar right here," Christophe said, running a hand from his collarbone to halfway down his arm.

Viktor marveled, trying to imagine the gory sight of a wound that big.

"And Georgi was wailing his sword on its body as it practically flung me and my shield around. The whole time, I was praying it wouldn't try to fly off with me. When I was finally able to get my arm free of the shield's braces, I pierced my sword right into the dragon's heart."

"You killed it?"

"Yeah... After that, it went limp." Christophe shook his head and he stared up at the sky. "It was absolutely the scariest thing that ever happened to me."

"Oh my God," Viktor said, out of words, his hand still covering his mouth. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"No, no, don't worry about it, it happened so long ago."

"Even so!"

Christophe looked over at Viktor, his face looking happy and hopeful. "Having an experience like that really teaches you to... not hold yourself back. From, you know..."

Viktor and Christophe stared at each other for a little bit, the conversation falling silent.

"Anyways," Christophe said, standing up. "Sorry for talking about myself so much." He held out a hand for Viktor. "I believe your dinner is starting soon."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the Sad lol

The castle library was usually quiet in the hour just before dinner, its marble floors and high ceiling throwing every sound as a quiet echo off the walls. With the setting winter sun casting orange light onto the large room lined with full bookshelves, the room almost felt aglow with wisdom. The long, grand wooden tables at the front of the library were usually bustling with quiet research and writing; but at this hour, everyone had already packed up their books and gone, leaving them almost offensively empty--except for two.

It was Yuri's favorite time and place to work, and therefore Viktor's favorite to tutor.

"This is basically a bunch of math," Yuri complained, his head propped up on his elbow.

"Yeah, I know," Viktor said, his pen scritching against the page as he wrote numbers into a table. "Budget stuff gets a lot more tedious when you factor conversion tables into it."

"So, Yakov gets to go on vacation in another providence, and we're stuck doing the paperwork?"

Viktor chuckled slightly, and leaned his head into his hand, still writing. "Well, usually the king is responsible for this stuff. That's why--"

"Viktor, Yuri," called Celestino as he ran into the library's open doors, looking wide-eyed and alarmed.

Viktor stood up quickly, immediately serious. "What's happened?"

Celestino opened his mouth, then closed it, looking between Viktor's and Yuri's concerned faces. Viktor held his breath: he'd never had to deal with an emergency without Yakov. "My sincerest condolences... But, the King..."

Viktor's heart dropped into his stomach.

"... has passed, en route to the Shorter Providence."

Yuri banged his fists on the table, and bolted up. " _No_ ," he yelled, entirely too loud, and his outburst bounced off the walls and into the hallway. "How do we know this?! What happened?! He just left _yesterday!_  We need to get soldiers out there for a search and rescue!"

Celestino's hands joined together in front of him, a solemn gesture. "It's already been confirmed by Sirs Leo and Emil. They said a--a dragon--"

Viktor's eyes went wide. "A dragon?"

"--attacked the royal carriage in the middle of a snowstorm. The knights weren't able to fend it off... and our king..."

Celestino let the sentence trail off when Yuri plopped into his seat and buried his head into his hands.

The silence was heavy. 

Viktor knew Celestino was here to help the royal family. And, for a monarch's death, there was a lot of overhead to be sorted out. Viktor looked down at Yuri, and his eyes started prickling with tears. Viktor couldn't even think about all of that right now. "Celestino, please leave us for now."

"Yes, Prince Viktor." 

Celestino turned and left the room, his fading footsteps leaving the room in total silence.

Yuri let out a small sob into his hands.

Viktor sat down and breathed in a shaky breath. A dragon--of all things. Yakov was worried about so many things for his citizens: robbers, invaders, poverty, drought. But, dragons were always outliers, usually unwilling to disturb areas with human activity. A dragon, led only by its own instinct and hunger, was able to take away the life of somebody so... good.

"Oh my God," Viktor murmured, trying to process it all.

"How can he be gone?" Yuri's voice asked, wet with grief and muffled by his hands.

Viktor looked over to Yuri again, his heart breaking even more. Nobody else had quite the relationship with Yakov as Viktor and Yuri did--two of Yakov's apprentices, two taken in as his own. "Yuri..."

"How can he be  _gone?"_  Yuri asked again, frustrated.

Viktor put a hand on Yuri's shoulder, feeling equally lost. "What are we going to do..."

Suddenly, Yuri slapped Viktor's hand off and stood up. "What are we going to _do_?!" he accused, his face tear-stained. "Yakov is _gone_  and you're just worried about this dumb immature _fear_  you have of taking over the kingdom!"

Viktor gaped, practically speechless, and tears started streaking down his cheeks. "No--Yuri," Viktor tried, reaching out for him again.

" _Don't touch me!_ " Yuri yelled, as he whipped around and stormed out of the library.

Viktor stared after him, shocked and hurt.

With Yuri gone, the library empty, and everything wholly silent, Viktor felt totally and utterly alone--grieving for a man he loved in a way nobody else in the kingdom would understand.

There was so much that needed done now. With such a sudden and dramatic shift in the monarch family, there was much preparation to be done concerning Viktor's stepping up to be king. Viktor knew he should find Celestino.

But everything inside Viktor felt sorely broken. He had to grieve, the sadness inside him so heavy and so dense that he worried his chest might burst with the heartbreak. The sun was only just setting, and he was expected to be at dinner; to be with the advisors, planning and problem-solving; to be drafting public speeches and reassuring the citizens that everything will be okay. 

Instead, Viktor went to his bedroom, curled up on his bed, hugged his pillow, and he wept. He wept, and he wept, and he wept.

He wept until his face hurt, his throat stung, the moon rose, and his sheets were wet. As slideshows of Yakov memories reeled in his head, he wept for the moments he wished he'd said more. He wept for the days he wished he'd spent more time. He wept for never being able to see Yakov again, the man who took him in and raised him.

It was all too crushing, and Viktor was all too alone. His sobs filled the empty space of his dark bedroom, only lit by the floor-to-ceiling-sized arch windows letting moonlight seep in.

When the sobs eventually fizzled down into a stuffy headache and a sore, wet face, Viktor wondered what time it was--had it been an hour? Two? Three?

He dragged himself out of the bed, his limbs feeling limp and heavy. Viktor was entirely disheveled, spending-- _who knows_  how much time crying.

He went to his wardrobe and changed into simple pajamas: knee-length shorts, and a loose-sleeved shirt. He glanced in the mirror of his bedroom vanity, then turned away from it as he just saw a tear-stained face with red-rimmed eyes. A sad mess.

Just then, Viktor heard a knock on the door.

Viktor thought of who it might be--not very many people are allowed in the upper floors of the castle, much less in the monarchs' quarters. _Yuri,_  Viktor considered, hopeful.

"Just--" Viktor's voice cracked, raw from crying. "Just a second," he tried again, softer.

He grabbed a tie and quickly wrapped his messy hair up, organizing the long locks into a lazy bun.

Then, Viktor opened the door.

"Hi Viktor," Christophe said, quiet to not disturb the lingering silence in the hall. "I, um, came to check on you."

Viktor stared at Christophe, wide-eyed with surprise. "Sir Christophe? What are you--how did you get up here?"

"Sir Otabek is guarding these quarters tonight. I cashed in a favor," he said, his beautiful green eyes wide with concern. "Mostly, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Viktor sighed deeply, looked away, and put a hand on his face. Nobody should be seeing their prince--their  _king?_ \--like this. Especially not somebody Viktor was actually starting to become friends with.

But Christophe's words hung on Viktor's shoulders. "How could I be okay?"

Christophe's eyebrows came together in concern, and let the question linger in the air.

Viktor almost felt the tears come back up, and he held his breath to try to stop them. 

"Everyone is worried about you and Yuri."

Viktor was worried about Yuri, too, and especially couldn't stop replaying his outburst: the stinging and truthful words that Yuri had been bottling up until then. "Thank you, Sir Christophe." Viktor put his hand down and looked at him. "Thanks for checking up on me." 

Viktor started to close the door, but Christophe put a protesting hand on it.

"Please, my prince," he blurted, genuine, stopping Viktor. "Let me know if you need anything. At all."

Viktor's heart stung, and didn't say anything as he stared at Christophe, the kind knight who had made time for Viktor--whose always-sparkling eyes now looked so concerned.

"I was on patrol for the east wing earlier today," Christophe says, filling in the pregnant pause. "I was--" Christophe looked to the side as he admitted, "I, uh, I overheard what happened..."

Viktor's eyes widened, and filled with more tears. The library is on the east wing, and the doors were wide open the whole time. 

"When I didn't see you for the rest of the day, I knew I needed to check up on you."

Viktor took a breath, still quiet.  _How clearly had Christophe heard what happened?_

"My prince," Christophe said, looking back at Viktor. "People grieve in their own ways. Some find comfort in anger, in solitude, and some find it in other ways. Please, let me help if I can."

Viktor wiped at his eyes, smearing the tears back. He was tired of feeling so alone _._  "Would you like to come in?"

Christophe's lips lifted in a sad smile. "I would be honored."

Viktor stepped aside, letting Christophe in.

Christophe entered and looked around, marveling at the room. "Wow," he breathed, "your room is so beautiful."

Viktor shut the door, and didn't face Christophe. "Thank you. I realize it's very atypical for a knight to be in the monarch's quarters."

_Yakov would have been so disapproving,_  is all Viktor can think about.  _But he would have been so forgiving._ Still staring at the door, he let the sadness bubble out of him in a sob. "I'm," he started in between sobs, "I'm sorry, Sir--" 

Suddenly, Christophe hugged him from behind, two arms firm around Viktor's waist. "Shh," he soothed, voice warm and low next to his ear.

Viktor brought both hands up to his face as the tears flowed, feeling like Christophe's arms around him were keeping the sadness held together. He didn't know why he felt so guilty all of a sudden.

"It's never easy," Christophe murmured. "I know. Don't be sorry."

Viktor started taking deep breaths, choppy with sobs. They stood in silence as he regained his breaths.

"There's just--there's so much I wish I would have done," Viktor said, quietly.

Christophe let go of Viktor's waist, and turned him around until they were facing each other. "You did everything right."

Viktor looked into Christophe's eyes, which seemed so sincere--but Viktor knew that wasn't true, and Viktor had so much to regret.

"When he first took me in, I was 14." Viktor paused, remembering. "My hair was even longer back then."

Christophe gave a small smile. "Unbelievable."

"The dukes and duchesses seemed disapproving when they saw who the king had chosen for his apprentice. They'd joke, 'So is Viktor a boy, a girl, or a stray dog?' "

Christophe's eyebrows furrowed disapprovingly. "That's also unbelievable."

Viktor let out something between a laugh and a sob, his eyes filling with tears again. "Yakov never tolerated it," he said, wiping his face again. "He would yell at them, and told me to never listen to the criticism... They never really bothered me. But it _did_  make me question why he had chosen me, of all the--the prodigies, the more experienced, the wonderful people he could have chosen instead."

"Did you ever ask?"

"He wasn't much for talking. Whenever I asked him about that stuff, he would tell me, 'Real kings know when they see other kings,' or something like that. My most memorable times with him, actually..." Viktor looked over to the window in his room. "He loved the snow, for some reason. We would sit in his office, or in his bedroom, and watch the snow together, drinking tea."

Christophe looked over at the window, too, and was surprised to see falling white flecks outside. "Ah, it's snowing."

Viktor wiped his eyes of tears again as memories of Yakov flooded in. 

Then, Christophe broke away, going over to the velvet sofa at the foot of Viktor's bed and starting to push the sofa towards the window, its feet dragging stubbornly across the rug.

Viktor watched. "What--what are you doing?"

Christophe continued pushing the sofa into place, positioning it to face the large window. "I'm moving the couch."

Viktor let out a small, sad laugh. "Why?"

When the sofa was positioned correctly, Christophe sat down and patted the spot next to him, looking up at Viktor hopefully, his eyes sparkling again.

Viktor sighed, gratefully, almost in disbelief. He sat himself next to Christophe, the loveseat sofa seeming so small underneath the large window throwing moonlight into the room. Viktor looked out at the gentle white snowflakes, starting to create a thin white covering on every outside surface.

"Thank you," Viktor said as he stared, leaning back into the couch.

Christophe watched the peaceful outdoor scene too. "I didn't know the King too well, being just a knight. But--one of my favorite memories of the King happened in the snow. Last year, actually." Christophe looked over at Viktor, whose beautiful blue eyes were filled with moonlight as he stared at the snow. "I was practicing swordfighting with another knight in the courtyard, in the middle of a snow flurry, when I saw the King and Yuri ride by on horseback. I think he was trying to teach Yuri how to ride--"

"I remember that," Viktor said, looking to Christophe. "Yuri got his first horse, and he was so excited to ride her that he couldn't wait for better weather. Yakov offered to go with him."

Christophe smiled. "Yuri was getting so mad at his horse."

"Potya was _not_  a very well-behaved mare at first."

"The King tried pretty hard to--to get Yuri to calm her down, I think? But the horse wouldn't stop trotting around, and Yuri was yelling so much. I remember King Yakov just stopped his horse at one point and couldn't stop laughing."

Viktor's lips lifted up at the sides, even as his eyes filled with tears again. "That--that sounds like both of them."

They sat in silence, watching the snow flutter down. Viktor had so many memories of Yakov pushing Yuri to be better--even if Yuri didn't think it was possible. Yuri and Yakov always had such a special understanding with each other. _Yuri must be hurting so much._

Viktor felt more tears running down his cheeks, and he put his head down in his hands as he felt another crying fit rise in his chest. "How much did you hear in the library?" he asked, his voice muffled.

Christophe looked over at Viktor. "...Why?"

The tears wouldn't stop. Christophe had definitely heard everything. "Yuri was right. He's right, and I'm never going to be able to be half the king Yakov was."

"Oh, my prince," Christophe murmured, putting an arm around Viktor and pulling him closer.

Viktor turned to Christophe's chest, burying his face in it gratefully as Christophe held tight.

"Prince Viktor, you will be the most wonderful king. You--shh," Christophe soothed worriedly as Viktor starting sobbing, loud wails. Christophe started running a hand up and down Viktor's shoulder. "Shh..."

"I wasn't ready to be prince, and I'm not ready to be king, and Yuri was _right,_ because I can't believe I'm thinking about this when Yakov is _dead."_

Viktor's sobs filled the room as he clutched at Christophe's shirt. Christophe took a deep breath, desperate to do anything to help, and he carefully started undoing the bun on Viktor's hair. When he worked the tie out, and Viktor's hair fell loose, Christophe started gently stroking his fingers down Viktor's scalp, tracing comforting patterns and playing with the beautiful silver strands.

Viktor took deep breaths as his sobs calmed down, Christophe's nimble fingers working comfortingly on his head.

Christophe stared out the window again as he waited for Viktor to relax, his face still pressed into Christophe's shirt, the wet tears already seeping through.

"I know you'll be a good prince," Christophe started, his hands still petting, "because you're captivating, charismatic, intelligent... And genuinely good."

Viktor sighed, and buried his face further, curling up on the couch until he was wholly laying on it. "Thank you, Sir Christophe."

Christophe looked please as Viktor settled in. His fingers slowly paced up and down Viktor's hair. "You're also incredibly resourceful, you've already exceeded most other previous kings at diplomatic skills, and... well, you were the best apprentice King Yakov could have chosen." 

Viktor sniffled. "You're entirely too kind."

Christophe propped his head up on his elbow as he stared at Viktor's beautiful hair entwining his fingers. "If you mean to say you are undeserving of this praise and comfort, I strongly disagree."

Viktor let out a small, sad laugh. "No, I simply mean you're kind."

"Just returning the favor of a friend who once lent me a dance, and a scarf."

Viktor sighed, and let out a pleased hum, feeling more relaxed.

"I can't believe it was from a dragon," Viktor murmured. "It just makes me...so angry. That everything was taken away just like that. I wish I could--I wish so strongly that the dragon was dead too."

Christophe didn't reply, still maintaining a gentle massage on Viktor's head. Viktor breathed slow and steady, relishing in the pleasant sensation.

"Your fingers feel good," Viktor said. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me, my prince."

Viktor almost cringed at the title. "I think you should just call me Viktor."

"Viktor..." Christophe tried out. "You know, this goes against my years of knightly training. It might even be against my oath to the royal family."

"I'm giving you special royal permission."

Christophe's lips lifted in a small smile. "Then, you have to call me Chris from now on."

Viktor wrinkled his nose. "That's so informal."

"Don't worry, I'm giving you special permission."

Viktor hummed again, pleasantly. "I'm honored, Chris."

Chris continued stroking through his hair, his fingers getting caught up in the long strands and playing with the locks.

The silence, the exhaustion from crying, and the feeling of being utterly relaxed--practically in Chris's lap--heavily weighed on Viktor as he laid with his eyes closed.

Chris continued playing with Viktor's hair until his breathing evened, and his body was limp, and Chris was sure he was sleeping.

Chris stayed on that couch with Viktor the entire night.


	4. Chapter 4

King Yakov's office felt foreign.

Viktor had sat in the King's office chair hundreds of times--thousands, even. Viktor liked sitting in it as a teenager when he studied, imagining himself doing big important work as a grown-up. As he took on more responsibilities, Viktor sat in the chair as he worked on something in Yakov's absence. 

His office felt like home, usually. Now, as Viktor sat in his chair, the grand desk neatly organized with papers in front him, the memories felt so distinctly... long ago.

The whole castle was grieving today, the cloudy skies reflecting the gray atmosphere around everyone's moods. The castle staff were particularly respectful to the royal family's grieving period, and Viktor appreciated the sentiments.

It was still early in the morning, and Viktor already felt like he had done a full day of work. After he bid goodbye to Count Seung-Gil, who had stopped by to discuss the funeral and generously handle most of its logistics, Viktor leaned back in his chair and sighed. 

If he stayed any longer in this office, he knew he'd be swarmed by Celestino and the other King's advisors--again.

Viktor got up and left the office, deciding he needed a quick break. He started down the castle's long hallways.  _Where could Chris have gone to?_  When Viktor woke up this morning, he was laying alone on the couch--Chris must have left earlier in the morning.

Viktor didn't blame him. This morning he slept in much later than he usually ever does.

As he rounded a corner, he almost bumped into Yuri and Otabek. "Oh!"

"Oh, Viktor--you're--hi!"

"Good morning, your highness," Otabek commented over Yuri's awkward stuttering.

"Good morning," Viktor said, and he put on a polite smile.

Yuri visibly relaxed at Viktor's happy expression. "Viktor, you're looking well."  

Otabek gave Yuri a pointed look. "Excuse me for my hurry, but I'm expected at an appointment." He nodded towards Viktor before continuing down the hall, leaving Viktor and Yuri by themselves.

"Hey, Viktor..." Yuri murmured, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, last night..."

Viktor let out a small sigh. "Yuri, it's okay."

"No, I--I didn't mean what I said last night."

"I know. I know that... people grieve in their own ways."

"I'm just, I'm sorry. You're going to be a wonderful king"

There was a pregnant pause as Viktor stared at Yuri, whose head was down in shame. But Viktor had never been mad at him. Viktor smiled big, and wrapped Yuri in a hug.

Yuri didn't protest, and even let himself lean into the hug. Viktor cherished the feeling of holding the person he considers his brother.

He wondered how Yuri fared for the rest of last night; if he had isolated himself or had found a friend--Otabek?--to be with. Viktor was lucky to have someone to grieve with. 

Chris... was so kind to him.

When Viktor broke away, he held Yuri at arm's length. "Do you happen to know where Sir Christophe is?"

"Sir Christophe?" Yuri asked, his head tilted. "No?"

"Or, did Otabek mention seeing him anywhere this morning?"

"Why would Otabek--wait, now that you mention it..." Yuri shrugged Viktor's hands off of him as he thought. "He did mention earlier he saw Sir Christophe in chainmail, with full weaponry, leaving with his horse."

Viktor's brows furrowed. "Full weaponry?"

"Yeah, did you send him on a mission or something?"

"No... I didn't..." Viktor's head reeled as he thought of where Chris could have gone off to.

To slay the dragon.

_I wish so strongly that the dragon was dead too,_  he had said last night. There was no way--Chris couldn't be that stupid, couldn't possibly be so impulsive that he'd put his life on the line--

"Viktor?"

"Sorry, Yuri, I have to do something," Viktor said before he bolted away. Yelling quickly, he finished, "Can you take care of an appointment in 15 with Celestino for me?! Thank you!"

Yuri incredulously stared after Viktor's back as he ran down the hallway. "...What?!"

Viktor ran out of the castle and across the courtyards, heading straight to the stables. 

Viktor _had_  to catch him before he did anything stupid. His head started replaying the (likely) scenario of Chris finding the dragon, and getting mercilessly killed.

Viktor grabbed Makkachin, his long-loved gray horse, and immediately set out towards the Shorter Providence. The confused stableboys, guards, and other castle crew shouted after him with questions of "Where are you-- Why are-- Slow down!"

A fiery fervor fueled Viktor as he rode Makkachin as fast as he could, kicking the snow up rapidly as they galloped down lazy morning townroads, then through quiet white forests.  _How could Chris do this?_  Viktor wouldn't ever be able to forgive Chris--or even forgive himself if he lost two people to the same monster.

Makkachin neatly dodged the tall trunks as Viktor rode shortcut after shortcut, bee-lining it off-road to the site that Yakov met his fate. Viktor desperately tried to do the math in his head, his memory of the area's map being carefully routed: _If I save time by riding straight-lined off the trails, and it's only 10 A.M., and Chris probably left after the sun rose but before I woke up..._

Viktor's eyes pricked with tears when, no matter how much he rationalized, he knew it was most likely he would be too late.

Chris was so stupid. And so kind, and brave, and sweet. And so, so--above all--stupid.

Viktor rode Makkachin for way too long, even as Viktor could feel his horse laboring to keep up; Viktor knew they exercised their horses to be prepared for vigorous strain, but he still petted Makkachin's neck in guilt. He prayed to make it to Chris in time.

When they were almost nearing the spot of the dragon encounter, Viktor heard a loud, sudden _CRACK!_  that shook the trees. It pounded at Viktor's heart, terrified at what that sound could mean, and he rode Makkachin towards it.

Then, Viktor could make out the shapes through the trees in front of him, their bodies stark against the white woodsy backdrop:

Christophe, sword and shield held close; and the dragon, crouched defensively, its snout snarling in the most toothy, terrifying growl.

As Makkachin raced nearer to them, Viktor could make out more details: the dragon was already lanced with wounds, its speckled green exterior stained with red; and Chris's shield had been snapped in half, leaving Chris's entire upper body vulnerable to any strikes.

Viktor inhaled deep, the mere sight a punch to his gut. "CHRIS!"

It was a mistake. In a split second, Chris looked towards Viktor, distracted, and the dragon launched straight for the kill, its razor-toothed mouth open wide.

When Chris's arm and half-shield disappeared into the dragon's mouth, he seized the close proximity to immediately plunge his sword into the dragon's eyeball.

The dragon released, howling a deep roar that rumbled the trees and pierced Viktor's ears. It shook its head violently as it stepped back, the sword--plunged all the way down to its hilt--unmoving. Blood poured from the socket.

The dragon stretched its wings quickly, and jumped into the air, its wings pumping huge bursts of air and shaking the whiteness out of the nearby branches. The dragon's wings worked hard for a speedy escape away; but it only was able to fly for a few seconds before it crashed into the trees below, the branches snapping and crackling under its weight.

No more movement. It was quiet. 

Chris dropped his broken shield. The beast had been killed.

His legs buckled and he knelt to the snowy, bloodied floor, clutching his bleeding arm close to his stomach.

"Chris!" Viktor yelled again, and he hopped off of Makkachin and ran towards Chris.

"What are you doing here?" Chris breathed, labored, as Viktor knelt next to him.

"What the hell am _I_  doing here?!" Viktor started taking off his jacket, and the freezing air bit at him. "What the hell are _you_  doing here?!"

Chris was breathing through gritted teeth and grimacing through the pain. Viktor unsheathed a dagger on Chris's belt. "You told me... you wanted the dragon dead."

With his jacket off and dagger in hand, Viktor reached up to his shoulder and started cutting a full sleeve off of his wool sweater. "This isn't what I meant!" Viktor scolded. "Give me your arm."

Chris gingerly and slowly exposed his forearm, which was shrouded by his tattered layered jacket but absolutely _drenched_  in blood.

"You could have killed yourself," Viktor continued to scold, even as he tenderly started wrapping Chris's bloody arm, wrist-to-elbow, with the severed sleeve. "Chris, how could you do that?! And only in a chainmail vest! Why would I ask you to go on a suicide mission--I--I thought you were--!" Viktor stopped himself and huffed in frustration, focusing on tightly and gently wrapping Chris's arm.

Chris's eyes were teary from the pain, and he stared at Viktor as he worked attentively and softly, already tying the ends of the makeshift bandage. "You're like an angel," Chris marveled. "Thank you."

Viktor looked up, into Chris's beautiful, distressed green eyes- _-_ and he was overcome, again, with frustration. _How could he call_ me _the angel?_

Viktor grabbed Chris's chainmail collar and pulled him in for a kiss.

Chris froze, turning deep red, then relaxed into Viktor's lips, with a beautifully satisfying hum.

His lips were so gentle, and his soft mustache was so fun to kiss against, and the way his skin smelled filled Viktor with warm memories.

When they stopped kissing, neither one of them pulled away.

"You always appear when I need you," Viktor murmured, their faces close. "If anyone's heaven-sent..."

"Actually, you're the one who appeared out of nowhere just now to take care of me."

They both smiled, even as Viktor said, "Yes, and I am furious at you still."

"Does that mean I get another kiss?"

Viktor's heart squeezed, and he closed the distance again.

It was soft, his lips slow and the kiss delicate. It felt like last night: Cristophe handling Viktor with a gentleness he wouldn't have expected. It made Viktor want to lean into it more, get a fuller kiss.

Chris pulled away before he could, though. "Viktor..." Chris started, and Viktor leaned back in concern as Chris suddenly sounded serious. Chris cleared his throat, and looked down with a high blush. "I feel very strongly for you."

Viktor inhaled sharply, caught off guard. He laughed, then--at the sincerity of Chris's confession, at the predicament in which he confessed, at the uncharacteristically bashful knight in front if him.

"You know, you're being pretty cruel right now," Chris quipped, smirking as he watched Viktor giggle to himself.

"You choose to tell me this while my hands are dripping with your blood," Viktor wheezed, and put a (bloody) hand on Chris's shoulder. "I like you, too."

Chris broke into a full grin. "Glad to know we both have impeccable taste in men."

Viktor chuckled again, and stood up. "Likewise." He held out a hand for Chris. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted, and probably in need of stitches." Viktor helped hoist Chris up, and Chris looked Viktor up and down as Viktor put his jacket back on. "You look like you were in battle, too."

Viktor looked down at his outfit, generously splattered with Chris's blood, sweater torn and sleeveless. "I do!" he realized. "What am I going to do, when I ride back to the castle like this--bloodied and heroically carrying a wounded knight?"

Chris immediately cupped Viktor's neck and pulled him in for another kiss, his lips moving just as gently and slowly as always. "Smile and look beautiful," he said against Viktor's lips, grinning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! this took a lot of time and love, and also a lot of courage to post! happy holidays to my secret santa giftee, and thank you for being the inspiration for this little story <3 <3 <3


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